


home at last

by brokecherry



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Cute, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Past Abuse, Past Torture, Reunited and It Feels So Good, Sansa-centric
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-23
Updated: 2019-04-23
Packaged: 2020-01-24 13:58:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 528
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18572914
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brokecherry/pseuds/brokecherry
Summary: He’s the last person she expects to find at Winterfell.





	home at last

He’s the last person she expects to find when the the servant tell her she has visitor. He stands in the center of the hall where they had their meals, where they ran around, playing games. Children. Oblivious to the true plights of the world.

A small part of her longs for that life, to have fathers warm hugs and the scruff of his beard when he kissed her cheeks. To have mother sit with her and brush her hair, telling her stories of brave and noble southern knights. To play knight and maiden, with Robb, where she was a captured princess and he saved her. And Rickon. Last time she saw him he was a babe. Who knows what sort of man he would of been. Surely strong and honorable like father and Robb, but also wild. Rickon, even in his youth, was always the wildest of her siblings, save Arya of course. 

She pushes the melancholia and nostalgia away. That life is gone. No point to dwell on what may never be. Their all dead now and she knows what it’s like to be a captured princess, it’s no game and Robb didn’t save her. 

But when she was alone, all alone with Ramsay. He was there. He was the one that helped her escape, risking himself in the process. For a time she hated him. He took Winterfell, killed Rickon and Bran, her brothers. Her small baby brothers. And it was him, the boy they grew up with, the boy they treated as a brother, loved as a brother. But Bran was alive and Rickon too had lived, until Ramsay. And she remembers what he was. She remembers Reek. The shadow of a person he was, how Ramsay flayed him, tortured him. He could be forgiven. 

And when she sees him again standing in the halls of Winterfell, looking as he once did, as he did in their youth. Her heart soars. In a way it hasn’t since Arya arrived. 

“I want to fight for Winterfell, Lady Sansa if you’ll have me.”

He says the words and looks down, perhaps in fear she’ll reject him, thrown him out of Winterfell and back to the Iron Islands. 

She looks at him and she can see the shadow. The shadow of Ramsay that hangs over him, over both of them. But he’s grown. He stands proud like the unruly boy he was in his youth, wearing the kraken in his armor with pride. 

She doesn’t notice when she moves forward or when he does the same or when her arms reach for him. She does notice though when their tangled around each other. Locked in a warm embrace and she burrows her nose into the crook of his neck and feels him do the same. 

He smelled like the ocean, like salt and snow. He smells like home, she thinks, as she tugs him closer. The Dragon Queen stands behind them completely forgotten. For the first time since her arrival Sansa doesn’t care about impressions or the game. All that matters is that he’s here, he’s home. 

Theon.

Theon.

Theon.

Theon’s home.

And that makes everything better.


End file.
